Summer Morning
by Restina Lovebug
Summary: Both Sam and Frodo discover new feelings. Slash
1. Default Chapter

Author: TickTack, alias Restina   
Title: Summer Morning   
Completed: Yes   
Characters or Pairing: Sam Frodo Slash   
Rating: PG   
Genre: Romance.   
Summary: On a hot summer day Sam and Frodo discover feelings, BIG feelings for each other.   
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns this guys, not me! I just play with them in my twisted mind! :)   
  
  
  
  
The sun was high in the sky. Birds where singing happily in the trees. Little squirrels were taking their first careful steps out on the branches of their home- three. Summer had come to the Shire. Frodo was wearing a light poplin- shirt and red, thin summerpants, the coolest clothes he owned. Nevertheless he stayed in the shadowed parts of Bag Ends gardens, to escape the licking sunbeams. But here, under a big parasol Sam kindly had placed in Frodos favourite part of the garden earlier in the morning together with a small bench, Frodo found himself quite happy and cool. At this moment Sam was back in the house, fetching a little coffee- table and something cold to drink.   
  
He came scrambling back seconds later, with the table under one arm and a mug of ice- cold lemonade in his right hand. He struggled with keeping the lemonade in the mug. "Excuse me, Master Frodo sir. Could you bee so kind to hold this for me for a little while? It will be easier for me to set up your table then, If you follow me, Sir? It'll be difficult with the one hand, if you see." "That's the least I could do, dear Sam. After all, you are the one doing all the work around here." Sam blushed slightly and arranged the table. "That` s not true, Mr. Frodo.", he said and reached for the mug with both hands. "You do lots, more than I!" And so he looked around with a confused look on his face as if he'd forgotten something. "Ah, but off course!" He slapped his forehead; "I'm loosing my wits, the Gaffer would say."; Sam sighed and pointed at the mug on the table. "A glass!" He ran off back into the house. Frodo smiled as he watched Sam in his hurry to please his master. He was truly blessed to have such a trusty servant as Sam!   
  
After a little while Sam came running back with a glass, which he placed on the table and filled with lemonade for his master. "But what about you?", Frodo objected; "Didn't you get one for your self?" Sam's cheeks hit red once more. "Bless me, Mr. Frodo, I didn't think of that!", he said and was about to turn around to run back into the house again. "That's OK Sam, we can share!" Frodo got a hold of his arm before he managed to move. Sam looked at him, sheepishly. "Are you sure, Mr. Frodo? I won't mind going back to get a glass for me, I don't mind really.." Frodo handed him the glass he'd just been drinking from. "Here my good friend, drink!" Sam smiled as if he'd won an award and lifted the glass to his lips, drinking until he hit bottom. "Oh no, how thoughtless of me, Mr Frodo! Now there's nothing left for you!" "Well, let me work my magic for you then, young Gamgee.", Frodo replied and poured new lemonade in the glass. "Ah now I never..", Sam said and smiled. "It has to bee this heat, it's stealing my wits!" He wiped his wet forehead with the back of his hand. "Then I think I will return to my work, Mr. Frodo, if there's nothing more I can do for you? Frodo shook his head and laughed. "No, I wouldn't keep you from doing what you love the most!" Sam got an eager expression on his face, as he always did when he was about to start his daily chores in the gardens of Bag Ends. "Then I think I will go trimming the hedge, Mr. Frodo. It's starting to get shabby in the edges."   
  
Frodo watched Sam while he slowly worked his way around the garden with his shears. Happy eyes lit up his face and he was whistling on an old tune Bilbo once taught him years ago. Frodo knew how fond Sam was of this garden, and one could easily see that every straw, every little flower three and bush shared his enthusiasm. Everything grew vigorous and well in Bag Ends black, fertile soil with Sam's helping hands. His father, The Gaffer, also was a marvellous gardener, and Sam had, no doubt, learned a great deal from him. But Sam was born with a special gift of making things grow and prosper that none other of the family of Gamgees possessed. With a sigh Frodo smiling tried to focus on the book he had in his hands. One thought filled his mind as he concentrated on the letters on page 342; The world wouldn't be the same without his dear Sam Gamgee!   
  
Sam seldom had a problem with the weather. He loved spending time outdoors no matter if it rained or even snowed. But even he had his limits when it came to heat. Soon the licking sunbeams started to get annoying even to him, and sweet summer- sweat tied the shirt to his back and made his curls glitter in the sunlight. After a while he took off his west, planning to lay it next to the legs of the table where his master sat so that he would remember it later. Frodo put his book aside and watched him as he folded the west and carefully lay it down on the ground.   
  
"Drink some more lemonade, Sam. You really shouldn't be working in this heat!" Sam smiled. A sparkling, happy smile that left Frodo with the knowing that nothing could destroy his joy of doing his daily chores in the garden. Not even red-hot sunbeams licking down his back. Frodo was starting to feel like a cooked turkey back here in the shadowed parts of the Ends, might wonder how it was out there, in the sun! "Don't you worry about me Mr. Frodo.", Sam said and let his hand run through wet curls. "Sun, wind, rain or snow- nothing can get to old Sam!" He drank the glass Frodo handed him and after wards he went back to his work, back straight and proud, just as eager as he'd been an hour earlier.   
  
Half an hour later he came back, with a somewhat embarrassed look on his face. "So you've finally bowed for the heat and come to keep me company?" Frodo smiled and moved aside to make room for Sam on the bench. "Umm, no.. That's not it.", Sam said and rubbed his neck; "I mean, I would love to keep you company Mr. Frodo, but I would like to finish the last part of the hedges first. It wouldn't take more than an hour or so. If you're still out here in the gardens by that time I sure won't mind to keep you company, if that's all right by you Mr. Frodo sir. If you follow me?" Sam's eyes got bigger and bigger as he rambled on. Frodo smiled, quite entertained. "That's all right Sam. No need for excuses. And I shall sit here until you are finished, and then you and I can have a good, long talk." Frodo ran his hand over his cheek. "But what was it you wanted if not keeping an old geezer company? Sam turned his eyes almost shamefully to the ground. "It's the heat, Mr. Frodo.", he said and blushed; "It's starting to get hot even for old Sam now. Therefore I wondered, If I can be so forward sir, if I could take my shirt off, put it here with my west while I finish my work. But if you have any objections against it I surely won't make you embarrassed by parading around practically in my birthday- suit." Frodo couldn't help but laughing. "Dear Sam!", he said and dried a tear; "Dear, good Sam. More shy than the fairest of virgins. Take your shirt off, by all means!!!! I have seen you with your shirt off before, you know, even if you thought no one could see you from the steps of Bag Ends."   
  
Sam now was red as a ripe tomato, and the desire to get the clingy shirt off his back had been replaced with a desperate longing to keep it on. And it shocked him to learn that his sneaking around, shirt off, not had been as successfully secret as he'd thought.   
  
You see; Hobbits are quite distinguished beings and seldom undress their upper body as well as their lower regions unless it's bathing- time. "And it's definitely NOT bathing- time!', Sam thought and wished he could vanish into thin air. But with his masters permission take the cloth off, it would bee rude to return to work with the shirt on. Therefore Sam, quite dazzled by his own boldness took off his shirt, folded it and put it on top of his west. Now that wouldn't be hard to remember! He felt naked and tried his best to hide behind the little coffee- table. "Sure I'm not making you embarrassed Mr. Frodo?", he squeaked and tried to get as small as possible. But Frodo didn't seem to mind at all, he smiled. "I think you are the embarrassed one, dear Sam!", he said with a big grin all over his face; "I don't see why, you have nothing to be embarrassed of!" With these words ringing in his ears Sam went stormblushing back to work.   
  
Frodos smile broadened while Sam found his shears and started working again. His mind started wandering, and little by little a well-hidden desire awoke in Frodos heart. A trembling feeling that had been lurking in secrecy for a couple of years now, ever since Sam released his father as gardener of Bag Ends. He watched Sam as he was sweating over the hedge and felt his pulse rice.   
  
Sam had been a part of the inventory of Bag Ends ever since he was a little hobbit. Even before he could walk his father brought him along and let him crawl around in the garden while he was working. Bilbo kept an eye with him, off course, and entertained him if he got bored and held him on his lap when he got tired. And when he learned to walk he followed young Frodo, fourteen years older, around everywhere and never let him be. Sure, he could be a pain at times, but Frodo was as fond of the little round face and loving smile as any. Bilbo even wondered at times if there where elven- blood in his veins. "He's much to beautiful to just be plain hobbit!", he used to say to the Gaffer. "Well, I best be checking with the misses.", the Gaffer would reply, making them both laugh until their stomach's aced and they had to sit down and rest for a while. Yes, Sam had been a beautiful child, and seemed to grow lovelier still. In a couple of months he would turn 33, and would be counted as a grown hobbit.   
  
Frodo sighed. As he watched Sam, who'd begun whistling again, the feelings he'd kept so well hidden in the darkness of his heart grew even stronger. Now they were fighting to get out in the daylight, slowly tearing his defences apart. Frodo knew it was only a matter of time before he was defeated, but he also knew that no one could find out. Least of all Sam. This inner struggle was a daily part of Frodos life, but now his feelings were about to get to strong. As he sat there silently fighting the fight of his life, Sam turned his head, right at him and smiled- a sparkling joyful smile, while the sun made his sweat body shine. He was a sturdy hobbit, but muscular and supple. The book felt down from Frodos lap, he could no longer take his eyes from him.   
  
Sam soon forgot the icky feeling of nakedness. He started whistling again moments after he'd grabbed a hold of his shears and returned to his work. His mood was rising and he more or less forgot about the whole shirt. Still, somehow, Sam sensed something unusual. Not sure what, but something.. Probably it was nothing else but the pressing heat making his nut crumble, as the Gaffer would say, but never the less Sam got this strange feeling of untold secrets. Or something else, he wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure about was that it somehow was connected with his master. At times he was a hobbit of few words, but Sam usually was aware of his masters thoughts even before Frodo knew them himself. But then again Sam loved his master above all earth and would gladly leap to his death if necessary, to save him. Not that anything like that ever would arise here in safe, old Shire, but never the less Sam would do it, without a blink of his eye.   
  
He looked up on the blue sky, closing his eyes for a second. Yep, there was definitely something in the air, like a shadow hanging over him. But Sam couldn't decide what it was about, not yet. He suddenly felt a strange urge to turn around to the direction Frodo was sitting. Why he didn't know, just this weird longing to see Frodos face. Surprised he discovered that Frodo was watching him. Usually he read one of his many books while Sam was doing his chores in the garden, but now he sat there following Sam with his eyes. He returned Sam's smile in spite of a weird expression clouding his face. "He's probably thinking of old Bilbo.", Sam thought and his eyes gained a sad glance. He also missed the old hobbit. He'd always loved the moments when Bilbo told stories about his great adventure and, not at least, tales about the elves. Fifteen years ago he'd left the Shire for his last big journey and never came back. Where he now was, and if he still was alive no one knew. The loss and sorrow weighed Frodo down at times and Sam's hart aced after making Bilbo magically reappear so that joy would return to his master's face.   
  
Actually there where many things Sam wished he could do for his master. Might wonder how Mr. Frodo would react if Sam had told him some truths about him self. But that could never be, the world wasn't created this way. Besides he, or to be more precise the Gaffer, had promised his heart to Rose Cotton, a wonderful creature Sam adored with all of his heart. She was a beautiful hobbit- lass, with a good sense of humour and strong meanings. Sam had spent much time with Rose and her older brothers in his childhood, and soon realised that if he was ever to get married it had to be to Rose. But what was this strange acing that awoke every time his eyes found Mr. Frodo? ""You're only tying your bonds of friendship a bit to tight, Sam Gamgee!" he mumbled to him self and went back to the trimming.   
  
Frodo felt sick. A craving he'd never felt before was about to break down all of his willpower. But what was he trying to avoid? He stared at Sam that for the moment had stopped his work, as if he had found something in the hedge. He saw muscles lying under sun- tanned skin and he looked at the curls in Sam's neck, wet of sweat curling even more than usual. Dearest Sam. Frodo saw he had to get away from here before his sense of judgement got so weak he'd do something unbearable. But before he got to do anything, Sam called in soft voice: "Mr. Frodo sir! Come see what I've found!" Sam waved at him eagerly and before Frodo even knew what he was doing, his feet had brought him down where Sam was standing.   
  
A smile of secrecy was all over Sam's face and he beckoned his master to come closer. "Come and take a peek in here, Mr. Frodo!" He held some branches aside so that it formed a peep- hole into the middle of the hedge. Frodo hesitated for a moment before he slowly moved closer. To see Sam's secret, which was hidden deep within the hedge, Frodo had to lean close to Sam, so close their bodies toughed. As Sam's naked back touched his chest Frodo was about to faint. What was happening to him??!?! "Do you see?", Sam looked over his shoulder, too excited to notice his master gasping for air. "Where?", Frodo asked and desperately tried to look where he was intended. He felt like his head was about to explode and he had to tie him self not to lay his arm around Sam.   
  
Instead he leant against Sam's shoulder. "In there, behind those branches. Don't you see them Mr. Frodo?" He felt Sam's body tremble of excitement. And then he finally noticed what had captured Sam's interest. There, in the hedge behind some twigs was a tiny bird's nest. And in the nest three little featherballs were cheeping with tiny beaks, hoping to get some food down their little throats. "Now would you believe.." Frodo smiled and leaned closer. "Aren't they cute?" Sam had a dreaming expression in his face. "I think we'll better let part of the hedge grow in peace this summer... If it's all right by you then Mr. Frodo? He let go of the twigs and the nest disappeared behind thick leaves again. "Off, they were almost to well hidden, I nearly ran them over with my shears!"   
  
Sam turned towards his master: "Do you know Mr. Fro..." The words froze on his lips and he couldn't move, staring into his masters blue gaze. There was something new in his eyes, something Sam never had seen before, something... different. Their gazes locked, and Sam couldn't let go. Frodo took one step forward. Sam felt his pulse pounding in his ears. Frodo moved yet one more step closer. They were close now, only divided by twenty centimetres of air.   
  
All of his senses screamed at him to stop, run. Flee while he had the chance. Still Frodo inexorable got dragged against Sam as if his big, brown eyes worked like magnets. Sam felt Frodo's breath against his chin, like a feather. His head whizzed of a feeling he couldn't understand. Suddenly Sam felt like he was drowning in his master's blue, blue eyes.   
  
It all happened so soon that Sam didn't have the time to react. Frodos lips softly embracing his. Sam's tongue which welcomed it in a moment of senseless astonishment and with a desire he never knew his heart was able to achieve.   
  
Suddenly Frodo realised what he had done. With the world falling down around him Frodo pushed Sam roughly away. "Forgive me Sam!", he moaned and staggered: "I didn't mean to...! Miserable he fell to his knees. Now he'd done it. Now he'd lost Sam!   
  
Sam was so confused he almost lost a hold of his feet when his master shoved him away. Frodo looked devastated, on his knees in front of him. But Sam could do no more than to gape for the present. He could still feel the warmth from his masters lips and astonished he lifted a finger to his mouth as if to check he wasn't dreaming. Then it dawned to him that his master was lying on his knees, begging for forgiveness, tears running down his cheeks. Sam got down on his knees. It pierced his heart to see the despair and anguish in Frodos bent neck. "Forgive you for what Mr. Frodo?", he said quietly: "I guess we were two about it. So then I can't forgive you before you have forgiven me." He took Frodos hand between both of his and kissed it gently. "I don't think I've realised this before now, Mr. Frodo." , his voice hardly audible: "I think I love you."   
  
Frodo lifted his head in disbelief. Was he starting to hear voices in his head now? He studied Sam's clear- cut features, but couldn't find any sign of anger. There was something else in Sam's eyes, something Frodo had fantasised about for so many nights. Could it be... love? Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but there came no sound from his throat. The sight of Sam who sat here in front of him, staring him calm and firm in the eyes, in spite of the storm of feelings that no doubt raged inside him got to Frodo so much he couldn't speak a word. Never had Sam looked more lovely in Frodos eyes!   
  
With his left hand Sam carefully wiped the tears of Frodos cheeks. Once again he was amazed by his own boldness. He'd told Frodo about his forbidden feelings! And now they both were sitting on the grass of Bag Ends, silent, without the strength to break the magic atmosphere that turned the air to porridge and their heartbeats to the drumming of giant drums.   
  
"I love him!" This confession was just as surprising to Sam as it had been to Frodo. And so he broke the magic silence and repeated his words, scarcely a whisper in the warm summer's day. "I think I love you, Mr. Frodo." He bursted into tears. Terrified Frodo heard Sam's words once more and suddenly he realised what he had done to the boy. And when the tears started running down Sam's cheeks he panicked. With a violent jerk he got to his feet and stumbled frightened away, heading for the house, half blinded by his madness. Sam cried after him to stop, but his ears could no longer hear. Inside the master bedroom he locked the door behind him, a lock never been used as long as Frodo could remember, and there he threw him self on the bed, conscience black as night and with his heart flaming with forbidden love.   
  
Frodos terrible reaction caught Sam off guard and Frodo therefore got a head start. When Sam tumbled to his feet Frodo was already half way to the hobbit- hole. "Mr. Frodo!", he cried, but Frodo didn't stop. He ran after his master imploring him once more to stop, tears stinging his eyes and heart slamming against his chest. He shouldn't have told Frodo! He should have kept his big mouth shut! He came to the hall just to hear he door to his master's bedchamber slam shut, followed by a sound Sam never had heard before. He ran to the door and knocked on it gently: "Mr. Frodo... may I enter?" Sam didn't know that the door was locked. But he would never enter his master's bedroom without permission. Hopefully he waited for an answer from behind the door, but it remained silent. Sam believed his heart would stop beating as he turned his back to the door and slowly went down the hall, his head bowed.   
  
Dear Lord how he aced to run to the door, unlock it and drag Sam inside, hold him close and never let him go! Frodo had to bite his lip not to cry out his frustration. All this because of a wretched shirt and a few seconds of uncontrollable lust?!!? He swung his legs over the bedside and buried his face in his hands. He'd never guessed Sam nurtured the same feelings for him. But he was fourteen years older than Sam and... Frodo moaned and pulled his hair. Why was he even thinking this thoughts? It was hopeless. No matter their feelings this could never be. They were Hobbit- men. Hobbit- men fell in love with and married Hobbit- women. Never had there been two of the same kind doing that. At least not as Frodo knew. Never. Outside Sam seemed to have begun fiddling with the hedge again. Loud sniffles now and again told Frodo he still was crying.   
  
An hour had passed, maybe two, when soft knocking once more came from outside the door. "I've finished the hedge, Mr. Frodo" Sam's voice was quiet and sad. "Except from the part where the nest is. I didn't have the heart to remove the little featherballs, even if they most likely wouldn't mind moving up to one of the fine threes here in Bag Ends. I thought it might be hard for their parents to find them then, after I'd moved them to a new place, if you follow me." Silence followed his last words for a while, as if he waited for a reply from the shut door. Then there was a heavy sigh and the sound of a hand stroking wood. "I guess I'll be going home then. Good afternoon Mr. Frodo."   
  
The dark blanket of night had covered all of the Shire before Frodo dared to leave his bedchamber. His head and body felt giddy after the long hours without food and water. But he had no appetite and settled for a glass of water to get rid of his thirst. He manoeuvred around in the kitchen for a bit, searching for matches in the dusk, cursing silently when he kicked one of the table- legs. Finally he found what he was looking for and lit the old oillamp which was standing on the kitchen- table. He brought it to the livingroom, planning to make a fire on the fireplace, maybe that would brighten his dark mind. But as he entered the livingroom he suddenly became aware of a strange sound that didn't belong there, a sound that seemed to be coming from one of his chairs. It was the sound of the heavy breathing of a sleeping hobbit. And not any old hobbit, but the sound of the same one who'd excused himself and left earlier that same day.   
  
Sam was really planning to go home in all his misery. But as he was about to pass the threshold a strange force denied him to leave Bag Ends. And so he'd sunken down in one of his master's comfortable armchairs and at length fallen asleep, miserable and tired.   
  
It was here Frodo now found him, hours later, and looked at him with a mixture of terrible fear and longing in his heart. He knew Sam was a sound sleeper and seldom got to be bothered with bad dreams, but there was a grief in Sam's sleeping face Frodo had never seen before. Without a sound he moved closer, terrified of waking his servant from his sleep. Most of all he wanted to sneak back to the bedroom where he felt safe, but something held him back. Sam. Frodo held out a trembling hand and only just touched Sam's chin. "I love you too, Samwise Gamgee!", he whispered, and before he knew it himself he bent down and kissed Sam's brow.   
  
Sam awoke the second he felt Frodo's warm lips against his forehead. He sat up, quickly, and grabbed his master's hand. "Please Mr. Frodo, don't run away from me again!", he said urgently and a bit desperately as Frodo tried to get away. Sam looked at him tearstung and silently added: "I don't think I could bear it." He lowered his head almost shamefully to the ground: "I love you, Mr. Frodo, I can't help it. But I wish I'd kept my big mouth shut. Now I've ruined it, you'll probably never speak to me again." Frodo placed the lamp on the floor with a very trembling hand. "Sam... look at me.", he said, his voice threatening to fail him. "Look at me Sam!" Almost reluctant Sam lifted his gaze. His eyes where flooded with tears and such misery it even exceeded Frodos. "I love you Sam!" The words came slowly, Frodo had to get them from deep within, from the darkest corner of his very soul where he'd kept his feelings hidden for so long. "I've loved you... as long as I can remember." The words seemed poor in the dim room. But Sam's eyes slowly sparked and started to shine, as if they'd been lit by Frodo's words. "Do you?", he whispered while the tairs running from his eyes became tairs of happiness. He got to his feet, unsteady, not sure what would happen next. Frodo seemed to ponder the same thing, but once more this invisible power dragged them towards each other.   
  
Sam put his hand behind Frodo's head and carefully pulled him closer, softly his lips closed on Frodos open, gasping mouth. He ran his fingers trough Frodos hair with a gentle hand , and his heart that had been acing of grief and loneliness just minutes ago now aced of a different feeling so big that Sam wondered how something that huge could fit inside him. Also this time Frodo was the one to finish the kiss, but now slowly, to get a glimpse of Sam's dark eyes. "You are so beautiful!", he whispered and let Sam drag him back into his arms again. "No one is more beautiful than you, Mr. Frodo!", Sam whispered back into his masters ear before he kissed his neck and fondled Frodos back with his hands.   
  
With a huge effort Frodo got out of Sam's embrace once more. Sam looked at him, wondering, with desire burning in his eyes. Now what? Frodo took Sam's hand in his, contemporaneous picking up the lamp with his free hand. "Follow me.", he said gently and took Sam by the hand to his bedchamber. There he left Sam alone in the middle of the floor while he placed the lamp on a chest of drawers standing by the bed. The light made the room glow in a deep red that covered Sam's blushing cheeks. Frodo came back and lay his arms around him, pulled him close and let his tongue go on a joyride deep inside Sam's mouth. All sorrow and doubt were vanished. Now Sam was everything, no worries were no longer allowed.   
  
Frodo's hot breath down his neck sent sweet sparkles down Sam's back and rooted everywhere, but most of all in the lower regions. "You are so good to me!", he said, nearly choked by in his own joy as he gave his master a devoted kiss. Frodo answered by letting his hands wander all over Sam's chest before he, which for Sam seemed like an eternity, slowly started to unbutton his shirt. As he did this they looked at each other in silence, both searching the other ones eyes for signs of regrets or insecurity. And so Sam was standing there, shirt off again, after Frodo had dragged it gently off his arms and let it fall to the floor. "You are so handsome Sam!", he whispered and let his hands slide down smooth, soft skin. Sam's chest jerked violently, reacting on Frodo's caress. "Frodo!", he gasped: "I think I'm sick! I can't breathe!" "Then we're both sick!", Frodo answered and smiled. He felt the same way.   
  
Now it was Frodo's turn. Sam unbuttoned his shirt with such gentleness that Frodo no longer could hold back an impatient moan, longing to hold Sam close again. "I'm sorry Mr. Frodo. It's just that I'm so darn happy right now. I'd wish this moment to last forever, if you see what I mean.", Sam explained and kissed Frodo on the nose. "I know all to well, dearest Sam.", Frodo replied with a warm smile and returned Sam's kiss.   
  
But the desire now burning hot in both of them couldn't be tamed for much longer. Sam was gasping for air with every touch and Frodo didn't do much better, acing in every part of his body. "I don't know about you Mr. Frodo, but I feel like I'm going to explode!", Sam exclaimed moaning while Frodo tenderly bit his earlobe. Frodo stopped and looked at Sam for a little while, determined to savour this moment for the future. "I love you Sam!", he tenderly announced. And then he once more took Sam's hand and lead him to the bed. This night was theirs. 


	2. The Goodbye

Author: TickTack, alias Restina   
Title: The Good-bye   
Characters or Pairing: Sam Frodo Slash   
Rating: G   
Genre: Angst.   
Summary: The morning after Sam and Frodos "encounter".   
Disclaimer: Tolkiens, not mine- love them, could never hurt them!   
  
  
The Goodbye  
  
In a silent bedroom two figures lay in a big old bed, peace in both their faces. As the sun found it's way through the window one of the shapes stirred and opened his eyes. Sam welcomed the day with a deep yawn, smiling as he thought about the dream he had last night. He and Mr. Frodo... Suddenly he became aware of the fact that he wasn't in his room.   
  
Where am I?! he thought and lifted his head to look around. The warmth of another body made him look down, and there, resting his head on Sam's chest lay Frodo. Sam almost jumped out of the bed in his surprise.   
  
Bless me! he thought, *That's why the dream was so lifelike!* With a shivering hand he ran his fingers trough Frodo's dark curls, afraid it all was just a dream still. But the image didn't disappear into a blur and Frodo's heavy breathing sounded like music in Sam's ears.   
  
*Now, don't you start whining Sam Gamgee!* Sam said to himself as he struggled with the emotions that welled through him like a river in early spring. Still, a big tear found it's way from under Sam's eyelid and ran silently down his cheek and neck, followed by new, warm tears.   
  
*What are you sobbing about, imbecile, this is what you've wanted the most of your life!* Sam urgently tried to stop the flood of tears with the back of his hand., but as soon as he saw the sleeping figure resting on his chest again the tears returned with renewed power.   
  
Suddenly Frodo stirred and opened his eyes as if he'd been disturbed in his sleep, but the feeling of Sam's body close to him soon calmed him down and his body relaxed.   
  
"Good morning, my Sam!" Frodo lifted his head and kissed Sam's neck, eyes closed. "But Sam, are you crying? You taste salt," Frodo said and lifted his gaze.   
  
"I'm so sorry Mr. Frodo! I always seem to ruin the moment," Sam answered and once more dried his eyes. "I don't know why I'm weeping, I guess it's because my heart is so happy it has to get rid of some of the happiness."   
  
Frodo looked at Sam, heart trembling, and kissed his cheeks. "I love you, Sam," he said. "I wish we could stay this way forever!"   
  
Sam closed his eyes for a moment. "I think that is partly why I'm crying, Sir," he said, and his eyes went sad. "We both want this so much, and still we both know it is impossible." Outside they both heard the singing of bird's praise the new day and the distant sound of couples laughing in the daylight after spending the night under the stars. "We will never have what they have," Sam sighed and looked at Frodo with eyes dark with sadness. "Never will we feel the joy of laughing together in the sunlight."   
  
Frodo shook his head. "What do you mean?" he said. "We laugh if the sunlight all the time!"   
  
"But not like that," Sam said. "Not like lovers." He pulled Frodo closer as if he tried to shut out the world around him. "We're doomed to sneak around, hiding."   
  
"I know, Sam," Frodo answered and felt like crying himself. "I wish there was a way to change the world. Do you think there is a word for two like us?"   
  
"Yes there is," Sam said, quietly, tightening his embrace; "Soulmates."   
  
They both went quiet for a while, lying in each others arms preparing for what had to come. I wish I could stay in your embrace forever, Sam Gamgee! Frodo thought and couldn't hold back the tears any more. He didn't know if he was capable of denying his feelings anymore now that he knew Sam felt the same way about him. But he had to. There was to great a risk. Frodo didn't bother much about his own reputation,--he was a Baggins so people wouldn't expect more from him--but Sam... They should not have the pleasure to drag Sam down in the mud with him!   
  
"Sam," he finally said, filled with unbearable sadness. "We both know what have to come now"   
  
Sam slowly sat up, face calm but heartbroken. "Yes," he said. "The goodbye." He stood up from the bed and fumbled after his clothes, back bent as if he was a very old man. Frodo watched him, not moving, feeling that his body was to heavy to carry.   
  
"No, Sam. This is not goodbye," He said, voice shivering.   
  
"Then what is it," Sam looked at him with dark eyes while buttoning his shirt.   
  
"I don't know what it is," Frodo answered. "But my heart tells me that this is not the end. You said it your self, we're Soulmates."   
  
And with Frodo's words to soothe the pain in his heart Sam kissed his master goodbye with tender lips. "I think so too," he said and ran his hand gently over Frodo's cheek before he turned around and left, eyes almost closed.   
  
Frodo lay silent and let him go, believing this was the best for them both, and hoping the staggering pain in his heart would shrink with time. If only they were somewhere else! But they both had lived in Hobbiton all of their life and knew little of the world outside it's borders other than what Bilbo had told them. And Frodo didn't have the heart to tear Sam away from the Shire he loved and adored so much. His roots grew deep into the soil of this country, and here he belonged.   
  
*And here we will stay, * Frodo thought as he pulled the blanket over a face wet with tears and shut the daylight out of his heart. 


	3. Sam's Birthday Party

Author: TickTack, alias Restina   
Title: Sam's Birthday Party   
Characters or Pairing: Sam/Frodo Slash   
Rating: G   
Genre: Angst.   
Summary: A birthday-party that ends not quite the way Sam had hoped.   
Disclaimer: I'm not planning on making any money on this!!!! I'm just having fun! :)   
  
  
  
Sam's Birthday Party  
  
It was a glorious summer's day equipped with all the ingredients for making a day memorable. The garden of a little cozy house not far from Frodo Baggins' wonderful Hobbit-hole was small compared to the garden of Bag End, but this day it looked it's most wonderful after hours of decorating by a certain young Gamgee- lad. Generously helped and sometimes ordered around by his father, he'd been working since early morning to make the garden look its best.   
  
"That's it, Sam- lad!" The Gaffer announced after his son had placed the last lantern where his father thought it would fit best. "Who'da think we could fix this old place up as nice as Master Frodo's!" He looked around with a satisfied smile on the old wrinkled face. Under the windows of the small cottage Sam had planted flowers in many colors that had reached full bloom this very morning, and in between the two apple- trees, also blooming, lanterns where dangling softly in the breeze. The fence and gate was covered with the climbing- roses Sam had planted earlier this summer and the little path leading up to the little one- floor house was carefully plucked for weed, as so were the flower-beds and the vegetable- garden. And behind the house, tables and chairs were placed, carefully avoiding the wild flowers Sam didn't have the heart to get rid of. And on each table there stood vases with daisies and white candlelight's.   
  
"Maybe I overdid it with the flowers," Sam said, doubting, and scratched the back of his head. He turned around as he heard the easy footsteps of someone approaching.   
  
"Nonsense!" Marigold, Sam's youngest sister, proclaimed with her dimples showing. "It looks perfect!" She jumped on to Sam's back, laughing as he spun her around until they both tumbled down on the grass.   
  
"Perfect, aye?!", Sam grinned and tickled her until she whiningly begged for mercy.   
  
"Please!" she cried and tumbled to her feet, still laughing. "It's perfect I tell you! Don't worry, this will be the best birthday- party ever!" Sam smiled and picked up a green ribbon that had fallen out of Marigold's golden locks while they where tumbling around in the grass.   
  
"Here, Mari- sis," He handed her the ribbon, eyes sparkling. "I don't know about it becoming the best party ever, but hopefully we'll all have a good time."   
  
"Now, enough of this nonsense!" The Gaffer barked in his usual way, but the glimmer in his eyes revealed his amusement. "We don't have all day! Marigold- you go and lay the tables. And you Sam- go take a bath! You look like something a rat coughed up! And you don't want to look like that when the guests starts showing up, will you?!"   
  
It was a happy Hobbit standing on the stairs of his home handing out homemade presents. Sam had on his very best vest and shirt, and a pair of trousers Marigold had sewed for him earlier this week. He looked and felt great with hair and eyes shining and with red apples in his cheeks. The guests had just started arriving, amongst them Sam's brothers and sisters. Even Hamson and Halfred had come the long way to celebrate his birthday. But Sam was waiting for one special guest, and that was written all over him.   
  
"Look at him!" Halfred said to his brothers and sisters as they watched Sam greeting his guests. "He looks as proud as a king today and he acts like one too. It seemed like he hadn't the time to speak to me, his brother, who came all the way from North-Farthing!"   
  
"I know," Daisy answered, "He's been acting rather peculiar the last couple of weeks. One day he is as happy as a Hobbit- child in an apple-tree, and on the next day he looks like if he's got a permanent rain-cloud hanging over his head. I don't know what's come over him." Hamson, who was the oldest of them nodded and pulled his ear, a habit never outgrown since he was a hobbit-child.   
  
"This sounds very mystical!" he said in a very Gafferish voice, which was very common for the Gaffer's oldest son. "You don't think it has anything to do with him hanging around this Frodo-guy? My uncle have told me some rumors about him and this Bilbo-caricature and I must say indeed they sound very queer!" Marigold had kept quiet during this discussion, but now she'd grown tired of her sisters and brothers accusations against their own brother.   
  
"Tell me, have you all lost your eyesight and wits!??" she said and looked at them all with a rather irritated look on her face.   
  
"What do you mean, Mari-dear?" May, the last of the group had a confused look on her face.   
  
"What do I mean?!" Marigold said and lost her temper for a second. "Listen to yourself! You all stand here talking behind Sam's back, that's one." Then she turned to Hamson who suddenly forgot to pull his ear. "Now do you really believe all of those wretched rumors that go around up there with our uncle, Hamson?! Our Gaffer has been working in Mr. Bilbo's and Mr. Frodo's garden all of his life and he turned out all right, didn't he?!"   
  
"Yes, I suppose...," he begun, but Marigold had all ready turned to Halfred. "And do you honestly believe that Sam isn't glad to see you again after two long years?!! He's been talking about both you and Hamson for the last week now. You two are his older brothers, and he looks up to you as he always has. You say he didn't have the time to talk to you when he arrived, but I saw the joy in his eyes and I know how much it lifts his heart that you would come this long way to celebrate his 33rd. birthday!" Halfred got an ashamed look on his face and his cheeks went almost as red as Sam's, and Marigold could no longer hide her smile.   
  
"Now, my dear brothers and sisters- take one more look on our dear brother and tell me what you see!" They all turned and gave Sam yet another glance. Their eyes saw a truly happy Hobbit, happier than they ever had seen him before.   
  
"Hmmm, he sure looks jolly!" Hamson said and wrinkled his brow; "The jolliest Hobbit I've ever seen to be ecsact." Halfred and May nodded with smiles on their faces.   
  
"But that's exactly what I told you," Daisy objected and planted solid hands to her side to state her point. "One day he is as merry as applepie and the next he's sobbing around looking as miserable as burned applepie!" Marigold sighed and looked at her sister with a dejected look on her face. "Daisy- dear, with 37 years on your back and still being young- do you really not know what it is, there in front of your eyes?? I remember seeing the exact same moodswings when a certain Hobbit- lass had a crush on the tailor's son a few years ago." Now it was Daisy's turn to blush. May got an eager expression on her face as she finally figured out what Marigold was implying.   
  
"Oh, Mari- dear that's great!" she shouted and threw herself around her sisters neck in happiness. Hamson and Halfred still had a confused look on their faces.   
  
"What's great!" Hamson said and couldn't help but pulling his ear in his uncertainty. He still wasn't quite convinced working in Bag End was an all to great thing.   
  
"Men!" Marigold and May moaned and even Daisy gave a sigh.   
  
"He's in love, you twits!" Marigold said and pushed them both with tender hands.   
  
"In love?! Hamson said. "But with who??"   
  
"Come on, think!!" Marigold was starting to get impatient. "Who's the only lass Sam's ever spent time with besides me and my sisters?" Both Halfred and Hamson still looked like questionmarks.   
  
"Rose Cotton of course!" Marigold almost screamed the name. "Is there anything you DO remember?!"   
  
"Oh yes, the gorgeous daughter of Farmer Cotton. No wonder our Sam has his head in the clouds," Hamson said and smiled. "You have to forgive me and my brother Mari- dear, it's difficult for us to keep up with all now that we've moved away and all. But I'll sure 'gratulate him later!"   
  
"No, you mustn't!" Marigold said urgently. "Sam thinks he's succeeding in hiding it from us. I know he will tell us in his own time, so lets just humor him for now all right?"   
  
"Sure Mari- dear, we'll do that," Halfred said and gave her a hug. "Sam's secret is safe with us! Now, I can't wait for this Rose- lass to show up!"   
  
"What's this, getting picky in your old age Frodo?" Merry grinned as he watched Frodo sweat tying a bow on his neck.   
  
"Old days!" Frodo snorted and gave his cousin a strict look. Help me instead of making fun of me. Be glad I agreed to let you go with me to Sam's birthday- party." He smiled. Merry and Pippin had been looking forward to this party ever since Frodo had told them, and now the day finally had arrived. Frodo himself stood in front of the mirror with mixed feelings. He had no idea how this party would turn out. These last weeks seemed to have snailed away, endless and weird. Sure, Sam came to work every morning and acted like nothing ever had happened between them, and Frodo acted like that too- just like they had agreed. But the aching in his heart...   
  
"What's the matter, cousin?" Pippin said. "You got that sad look on your face again."   
  
"I'm fine boys," Frodo answered and looked one last time in the mirror before he turned and went to the door. "Now, come! We can't let the party start without us can we?"   
  
Sam was still standing at the steps of his home. Almost all of his guests had arrived except for Frodo, Merry and Pippin, and Farmer Cotton with family. Oh, how he had waited for this day! Finally he was to be considered as a grownup, with all the grownup's rights and responsibilities. And he'd made plans for this night, oh yes. It was his birthday and it would be as his sister told him, perfect.   
  
Laughter and loud voices told him the last of his guests were arriving. Farmer Cotton and his family came together with Frodo and his cousins, apparently they had met down the road and decided to go together the last part. Merry and Pippin were the first two who came jumping up the stairs, smiling and laughing as they both handed Sam big hugs and congratulations. And Sam smiled brighter than ever and gave them presents as his gaze searched for one in particular. Their gazes met, and locked. Frodo, his dearest Mr.Frodo! He looked so handsome in his yellow jacket and green vest and trousers that Sam had to use all of his willpower to turn his eyes away from him and to greet the next guests in line. Farmer Cotton's sons all came up together, patting Sam's shoulder and grumbled their congratulations with big, cheerful smiles.   
  
"Happy birthday, lad!" Farmer Cotton said after he'd chased his sons down from the stairs as they seemed to never get done with their "hellos". "Sorry about that, it seems like the boys already has tested some of the beer we've brought along to you."   
  
"That's all right Mr. Cotton, I don't blame them! No one makes beer as good as you do, that I'm quite certain of!" Sam laughed and gave him his present.   
  
Now there was only two left waiting to greet the birthday-lad, Frodo and Rose. Rose was the first one to approach him.   
  
"Hi," she said, blushing heavily not daring to look Sam in the eyes. She knew both about her father's and the Gaffer's wish as well as Sam, if she were to choose a husband it had to be Sam. Not that any kind of force was in the picture, by all means- Hobbits are respectable beings, but The Gamgees and the Farmers had been friends for generations. A wedding to join the two families therefore would be perfect.   
  
"Hi," Sam answered shyly and carefully took her hand. "You... look beautiful today Rose!" Rose forgot her shyness and looked up.   
  
"Do you think so, really??" She smiled and revealed two gorgeous dimples in her cheeks.   
  
"Of course Miss Cotton!" Sam said and smiled. She really was beautiful, all dressed in white this hot summer's day. And on her head a wreath of daisies made her look like a little elven-maid. She was a delightful sight, actually, but behind her Sam's Frodo was waiting.   
  
Rose both smiled and blushed as she went down the steps so that Frodo could greet his servant. Frodo hesitated a moment before he finally dared his feet up to his waiting Sam.   
  
"Congratulations, Sam!" he said and gave Sam a hug.   
  
"Thank you Mr. Frodo!" Sam said and smiled. It was the smile of a Hobbit in love. If any of the Gamgees had turned their heads and looked at their brother at that moment they would have known. But they all turned their heads the second Rose stepped down from the steps, quite convinced they had found out who it was their brother had a crush on. They both stood in odd silence for some seconds not knowing what to say.   
  
Take me in your arms, reveal your love! Sam thought and it seemed Frodo thought the same thing. But neither dared take the final step.   
  
"Sam! You must come and sit down so we can start the meal!" The Gaffer never had been amongst the most discreet, and he now proved it by shouting so loud poor Farmer Cotton and some of Sam's old uncles and aunts almost got their ear-drums blown. Sam sighed and looked at Mr. Frodo with badly hidden longing in his eyes.   
  
"Well, my Gaffer has spoken," he said and gave a wry smile. "I better go before he starves to death." Frodo smiled and nodded. Sam hurried down the steps and set to the garden.   
  
"By the way," Sam whirled around and looked at his master again; "You'll get your present later, I have it inside the house."   
  
It was a delightful meal and everybody seemed to enjoy themselves, especially Sam. He was talking to everyone and noone, being the perfect host, and he was followed with loving eyes. Frodo also played his part well, as Mr. Frodo. He behaved exactly as he was expected to do, talked as he was expected to do and ate the way he was expected to. Sure, he sent Sam secret blinks and their hands touched under the table from time to time, but what the eye doesn't see... He wondered what it was Sam kept hidden for him inside the house. He had a feeling he would get the present soon though, the meal was almost over and Sam had been sending him several looks indicating he had something in mind.   
  
Sam wasn't of the kind to give long speeches, so he just thanked everyone for coming and wished them all the best. "And for your enjoyment for the rest of the evening," he said and his eyes sparkled with secrecy "I've arranged for Farmer Cotton to bring along some of that famous beer of his and, not at least, his fiddle. And not to worry, if we should run out of beer I have more stacked up in the house, and wine too! So let us all be merry until the day breaks into a new one!" These words were followed by cheers and applause, and Farmer Cotton jumped to his feet and started playing.   
  
The Gaffer was the first to jump unsteadily around to the catching tune of Farmer Cotton's fiddle.   
  
"Now, this is what I call music!" he screamed and grabbed May by the hands and led her into the dance. And it didn't take long before the rest of the guests threw themselves out into the dance also. Sam and Frodo stood smilingly at the side watching the others having fun.   
  
"Would you like to help me bring out the wine and beer, Mr. Frodo, sir?" The innocent look in Sam's eyes made the butterflies in Frodo's stomach do somersaults.   
  
"Sure Sam," he answered, voice trembling even he knew nothing of what Sam had in mind. They went inside in silence.   
  
"The birthday-present is on the table," Sam said as they entered the kitchen. Frodo looked down on the table but saw nothing but the old oil-lamp that had been standing there as long as he could remember.   
  
"Are you sure, Sam?" He looked at it once more; "Maybe Marigold has moved it or something." Sam came closer, looked at the table and smiled.   
  
"No, it's still there. Look closer Mr. Frodo!" Frodo did as Sam said, feeling he was fooled around- but suddenly he saw his present. Next to the lamp, almost invisible in the dusk, lay two small seeds. Frodo picked them up.   
  
"What's this?" he said and looked at Sam, wondering. Sam's eyes got a distant look.   
  
"It's Swantree-seeds," he answered. "It's said that when the seeds of two Swan-trees are planted together they will root and grow together, unseparable, becoming soulmates." Sam smiled and moved closer, a warm glow in his face. "Isn't it beautiful Mr. Frodo?" Frodo nodded, smiling:   
  
"Indeed my dear Sam! I couldn't wish for a better birthday-present!"   
  
"Oh, but I'm not finished yet!" Sam got an eager expression on his face as he took his master by the hands. "I have one more present I wish to give to you."   
  
"More?" Frodo said; "But you've already given me the most wonderful present I've ever got!" He closed his eyes as Sam kissed his neck with tender lips, hoping no one outside was starting to miss the wine and beer.   
  
"You know it's my 33rd birthday," Sam murmured and looked up to Frodo's face with hope in his eyes. "I wish to give you this night, to let us both be happy for a few sacred hours, just you and me, Mr. Frodo." A sudden fear of being caught doing illegal things made Frodo loosen Sam's embrace.   
  
"THIS night?!?!" he whispered as he looked around ensuring himself there was no one around to hear them.   
  
"Yes, this night," Sam suddenly looked uncertain; "What's wrong, Mr. Frodo?" With a trembling hand Frodo touched Sam's cheek.   
  
"Oh, you should know how much I've ached for you to say those words, Sam!" Frodo said, feeling his heart crumble into dust as he continued; "But things aren't as simple as that, it's to risky! Think about it, how can we both sneak away from YOUR birthday-party with no one getting suspicious? Maybe some other time, Sam, but not now, not tonight." Sam was silent, but there was little doubt that it was tears that made his eyes glimmer in the shadow.   
  
"Sam...," Frodo felt like a monster. Sam looked like Frodo just had torn the heart out of his chest and stomped on it. "Please, Sam..." He fell silent.   
  
"I'd better go out and entertain my guests." Sam swallowed and walked out of the kitchen like a drunken man, barely keeping his footing, leaving Frodo helpless behind. Sam did not know how he ended up next to the table where Rose and her brothers sat, he was too heartbroken and depressed to notice where he sat his foot.   
  
"Sam!" Tom, the oldest of the Cotton-boys yelled; "Come and sit down with us!" And Sam sat down with a courageous attempt at a smile on his lips, trying hard to block out the intense longing to run away from it all. The next he knew a pitcher of beer was handed him with the order to drink. And he drank. Never had beer tasted any better!   
  
Marigold came by and asked him for the beer and wine he was supposed to get from the house. Sam's smiles were getting better and better as the beer replaced the emptiness inside him, and he smiled broadly to her and told her he'd forgotten about the whole thing because he had in mind to sit with the splendid Cotton-boys and girl. Weirdly enough this was explanation enough for Marigold who smiled and winked to him before she hurried into the house herself.   
  
Frodo also had found his way out of the house, quietly, a while after Sam. He needed a moment to gather his feelings before he dared face the outside again. By this time Sam was already starting to feel better thanks to Farmer Cotton's beer, and Frodo saw him by the table where the Cottons were seated. How he loved that face and that kind, loving soul! He regretted he hadn't pulled Sam back when he'd headed for the door. Now it was too late and he would probably not get the chance to speak to him again this night, alone. So he found the table where Pippin and Merry sat and joined them, watching Sam's every move.   
  
The evening soon became a blur for Sam. He knew Frodo was sitting on a table nearby, together with Pippin and Merry, but the pain in his heart was to big for him to go to his master, so he remained where he was- next to Rose who swallowed his every word and looked her very best indeed.   
  
"Rose-dear, I remember a certain beautiful young Hobbit-lass once promised me a dance on my birthday." Sam turned on all of his charm as the image of Rose grew in front of his eyes and became a wild fantasy, denying the burning flame in his heart the air it craved. Rose blushed, but soon regained her grasp of the situation.   
  
"So you want to dance, Sam-dear?" she said and smiled. "That's not gonna be cheap!" Sam rose from his chair and grabbed Rose by the hand.   
  
"Dance with me, my Rose-lass, and make me the happiest Hobbit on the face of this earth!" And with this words Sam threw himself into a wild dance with Rose in his arms, spinning round and round, laughing as he felt the despair turn into lust and the face of Rose turn into the face of someone else. The sound of the fiddle echoed in his ears and the beer burned in his veins until he felt like the king of the world. And as the tune on Farmer Cottons fiddle died, the fantasy-image in Sam's head seized in size until he truly believed the image his eyes gave him.   
  
It took no longer than a couple of seconds. That sometimes is enough to destroy so much more than one can ever imagine, enough time to change the future inevitable.   
  
A kiss and the words "I love you!" Three words filled with so much emotion even the Gaffer had to search for his hankie. Three words heard by everyone in the crowd. For all but two these words brought joy and happiness, and for one the undying love of Sam Gamgee.   
  
Sam awoke the second the words escaped his mouth, lips still moist after the close encounter with Rose's mouth. The dream-image of Frodo disappeared and left was Rose's face looking so truly happy it burned a permanent image into Sam's head. Wild cheers rose around him, the Cotton-boys all clapped him on the shoulder with big grins, Marigold cried of happiness and The Gaffer and Farmer Cotton immediately started to plan a wedding. But in all this Sam had eyes for but one, on a table a couple of meters away from where he was standing sat a Hobbit who's face suddenly looked many years older, pale as a corpse with unbearable sadness in his eyes.   
  
Frodo got to his feet, staggering. The shock and hurt made it almost impossible for him to move, but he knew he had to get away.   
  
"What's wrong Frodo?" Merry gave him a concerned look. "You look sick." Frodo had to force the words out of his mouth;   
  
"Yes, I'm not feeling too well, Merry. I think it's best I'd be heading home now." He inhaled sharply as he forced the ice-cold sensation of being deserted down to his toes.   
  
"Oh, no! Do we really have to go now!??!?!!" Pippin moaned. This was the first party he'd ever been allowed to sit up with the grownups, and he didn't want to leave so soon, not with all this happening with Sam and everything.   
  
"Merry, I'm leaving you in charge of our young Mr. Pippin," Frodo said and stumbled his way to the host to say his good-byes.   
  
For the moment Rose was occupied with her three brothers who were teasing her about the possible future wedding, and Sam stood like a ghost staring at Frodo as he approached him. Sam felt cold from his toes and up. Frodo reached out his hand, beckoning to shake Sam's hand.   
  
"I'm sorry to leave at this early hour, Sam, but I'm afraid I've taken ill with something. The best regards to you and Rose, lad. And since today's your birthday and you probably have a lot to clean up tomorrow I'm giving you a day off. " Frodo then bowed and turned to walk away.   
  
Sam felt nothing but pain as he watched the one he loved the most leave him, barely holding his head straight as he went down the path. And before he knew what hit him, his stomach turned violently and Sam fell to his knees, ridding himself of the cursed beer that had blinded his eyes and wits.   
  
"What have I done!?!!!" he moaned, not noticing the amusement in the crowd. Without Sam's knowing Tom helped him up, as the Gaffer yelled about ruining a perfectly good birthday-party.   
  
"Leave him be, pops," Marigold said in Sam's defense and helped Tom getting Sam to the house. "Our good Sam is so very much in love he didn't know where to stop drinking!" Rose's cheeks went up like flashlights and she could no longer hide her smile. The Gaffer saw this and when Farmer Cotton also spoke to Sam's defense his son was forgiven, and it was the Gaffer who eventually helped Sam into his bed.   
  
Sam looked like a wreck even after his father had cleaned him up and tucked him in for the night.   
  
"I'll ask the guests to leave quietly," the Gaffer said and smiled with all of his thirteen teeth; "Who'da think my Sam would end up with the nicest young Hobbit-lass there is?" Sam looked at him with sad eyes, and had to bite his lip to keep from crying. His father looked so happy it would destroy him if Sam told him about Mr. Frodo.   
  
"We're not married yet, dad," he said feeling utterly miserable as the words left his mouth. The Gaffer stroke his cheek with a careful hand, so tender Sam bearly felt it.   
  
"But one day...," he said, and rose slowly as old men tend to do. "Rest now, lad, you have a big day ahead of you."   
  
Sam lay still until the last guests had left and he heard The Gaffer close the door behind him into his sleeping-chamber. Then he quickly and silent got to his feet, dressed and snuck out the window. There was no rest in his soul until he'd confronted Mr. Frodo and told him what had happened.   
  
Told him what happened indeed! Sam thought as he ran as quickly as his feet could carry him through the grass. *As if he didn't see all to well himself! You've really messed it up this time Sam Gamgee, I'd be lucky if he ever spoke to me again.*   
  
There was a dim light in Frodo's livingroom. Sam guessed he was sitting in one of his armchairs. Silently, without knocking , he opened the door, drying his tears with the back of his hand. And as Sam had guessed Frodo sat in his chair in front of the fireplace. Frodo sat bent like an old man, looking straight in front of him.   
  
"Mr. Frodo, sir..." Sam's voice sounded helpless and scared in the dark room, only a single candlelight was lit in on the table. Frodo didn't move.   
  
"Please go," he said continuing to look straightforward.   
  
"But..." Sam took a few steps closer, his heart drumming in his ears. "I need to tell you..."   
  
"Tell me what?!?!" Frodo finally looked at him. "Tell me that you're in love with a certain Rose Cotton now, and what you and I had was funny while it lasted??!" His voice was trembling and so were his hands.   
  
"No!!" Sam shouted and leapt forward, fell to his knees and buried his face in his Master's lap. "I love you!" he sobbed. !I've always loved you and always will!!" Sam longed for Frodo's hand to comfort him, tell him he was forgiven, but Frodo's hand remained on the handles of the chair.   
  
"I was angry and mad about you not wanting me, Sir! I sat down and drank all they handed me and suddenly it was like all became a blur, Rose disappeared and you took her place and... I don't know how I could do it, Mr. Frodo- but that kiss was intended for you, and you alone. Somewhere along the road I must have lost my wits." Frodo still didn't move, just the sharp sound of his breathing revealed his presence.   
  
"I understand if you'll never speak to me again, but I had to tell you, Mr.Frodo, I love you to much to just let go!" Sam finally dared to look up. Their gazes met for a second until Frodo withdrew his eyes and looked out the window.   
  
"I also have guilt in this," he said quietly and closed his eyes. "I was to rough to you inside the house, I see that now. But still, you were the one to kiss Rose."   
  
"I know, and I will never forgive myself for it!" Sam moaned. "I have no choice now, someday I'll have to marry her, unless I want to break my family's heart. But with doing so I will have to break my own heart, Mr. Frodo- and yours! Either way I'm doomed to be torn apart, to never be whole again!!!" With these words Sam's crying became violent and uncontrollable, revealing such terror and sadness one could believe the poor Hobbit was about to perish out of heart-grieve.   
  
All anger left Frodo's head and heart. His hand's stopped trembling and he cupped Sam's face with them as he looked at him with no words big enough to express the feelings tumbling around inside him.   
  
"I promise you Sam, you'll never be torn apart! I shall see to that." Tears ran down Frodo's face as Sam clung to him and cried like a baby.   
  
"We both knew this was bound to happen sooner or later, everybody expects you to marry Rose. You not kissing her tonight wouldn't have made a difference," Frodo said and closed his eyes as he felt a shutter go through Sam's body. "We need to be strong, Sam. As long as we are here in the Shire there is no way for us to show our love, no laughing in the sunlight."   
  
Sam sat up, a wild expression on his face. "Let's run Mr. Frodo! Let's leave this place, find our own spot of grass and be blessed and happy the rest of our lives!"   
  
"No," Frodo answered. "Think about it Sam. Would you really be truly happy if you had to leave the Shire and your family behind? I don't think so. And Rose, I know you have feelings about her too, I don't think you could leave all this for just me." Sam didn't have to answer. Frodo saw it all in his eyes.   
  
"But it's you I LOVE!" Sam crawled closer as he felt the room grow even darker around him.   
  
"Hush now, Sam dear," Frodo said and cradled him like a small Hobbit-child. "I don't know where we'll end up in all of this, but what we share no one can take from us, and that will be our strength!" And so he rose, with Sam in his arms, and carried him to the bedroom where he carefully laid him down.   
  
Sam's cheeks still were wet with tears after Frodo had helped him off with the clothes and undressed himself.   
  
"No more crying tonight, Sam," Frodo said tenderly as he lay down beside Sam and dried his cheeks. "There is no use in torturing ourselves with questions there are no answers to, we'll just have to see what the future brings. Maybe one day we'll get our chance you and I."   
  
They curled up to each other, like two lovers in a sinking ship, both trying to shut the future out of their mind. And like this they finally fell asleep, embracing each other so tight one might believe they were grown together.   
  
"Wake up, Sam!" Frodo kissed Sam tenderly as he opened his eyes. "Good morning my dear, the sun already is high on the sky- you better head home before the Gaffer starts wondering where you're at." Sam sat up and noticed that Frodo was fully dressed.   
  
"No need to worry, Mr. Frodo. The Gaffer will only believe I went to work before he woke up for once," Sam said and smiled as he enjoyed the sight of his dear master.   
  
"I gave you the day off, remember," Frodo said teasingly and couldn't help but grinning himself as Sam got out of bed like a rocket.   
  
"Bless me, Mr. Frodo- so you did!" Sam screamed and looked quite panicked.   
  
"Relax, Sam!" Frodo laughed: "You look like an army of ants crawled up your sweet behind last night." Sam found his trousers and jerked them on in such pace, Frodo thought it was a wonder they didn't tear.   
  
"He's gonna find out!" Sam's cheeks grew red as he struggled with his shirt, which seemed to have grown an extra pair of arms since last night. Although Frodo felt quite amused by Sam's skipping around the room, he soon realized that Sam's worries were legitimate.   
  
"Calm down, Sam," he said and got a hold of Sam's hands that were both wrapped in his shirt. "You'll never get your shirt on that way, here- let me help you!" Sam stood still while Frodo dressed him with gentle hands.   
  
"I manage the buttons myself," Sam said and sat down on the bed.   
  
Suddenly the sound of feet approaching came from the hall, and a second later someone was pounding on the door. Sam and Frodo didn't have time to react other than look started as The Gaffer entered the room with a worried look on his face.   
  
"I'm so sorry to come bouncing in to your private quarters like this Mr. Frodo, but I'm looking for my son. It's like he's vanished into thin air, the lad, I thought maybe he'd run off to see dear Rose, but he wasn't there and..." His eyes fell on a blushing Hobbit sitting on his master's bed struggling with the buttons of his shirt.   
  
"Sam??!! What are you doing here!?!??!?" The Gaffer looked like his eyess were about to pop out of hi head. Sam stared at his father with an open mouth, not managing to speak.   
  
"Oh, that's a rather amusing story!" Sam and The Gaffer turned their heads in the direction the voice was coming from. Frodo smiled as if he was about to tell something so unbelievably funny that Sam still sat with his mouth open.   
  
"The dear lad must have had a beer or two to many last night," Frodo said and smiled fatherly. "He came to my house right before I was going to bed, you see. He was in such a jolly mood, you should have seen him! And how he rambled on about his dear Rose-lass!!!" Frodo laughed and patted the heavenstruck Sam on the shoulder.   
  
"And before I knew it he'd fallen asleep in one of my chairs, snoring and smiling so happily I didn't have the heart to wake him. So I carried him to my bed and tucked him in for the night while I myself have slept in one of my guest-chambers."   
  
Sam gave Frodo a thankful glance. The Gaffer seemed to be satisfied with the story.   
  
"Now, then," he barked and cleared his throat. "I have to apologize for my son's childish behavior." He grabbed Sam by the ear and dragged him out of the room. Sam looked quite relieved despite the pain he had to feel in his ear, and he sent Frodo more thankful gazes and mimed the words "I love you" as he willingly let his father drag him away.   
  
"What were you thinking, young lad?" The Gaffer had let go of Sam's ear and they walked side by side on the path leading to the small cottage down in the Hill. "You're not a tween anymore!"   
  
"I'm sorry father," Sam said and tried to hide the happiness he felt inside. "I think it was the beer, it stole my wits." The Gaffer looked at him and shook his head.   
  
"You're a chump, young Gamgee, a big old chump who acts before he thinks. If I were you I wouldn't dare set my foot outside, fearing a squirrel would mistake my head with a big juicy nut!" Sam had to smile.   
  
"I'll sharpen up, dad- I promise."   
  
"But then you wouldn't be the same Sam-lad I know," the Gaffer smiled. "And if it hadn't been for the beer I bet you'd never dare to do what you did at your party last night! And speaking of which," he said and smiled;   
  
"There's a gorgeous young lass waiting for you at home, that's why I've been running around looking for you."   
  
Sam nodded and hoped the Gaffer didn't notice the chill that ran down his son's back for a moment. Then he remembered Frodo's words last night and found his calm.   
  
"Ah, so that's why you were so concerned about my whereabouts? Afraid you'd miss the wedding maybe?" Sam looked his usual steady and the sparkle in his eyes was legitimate. He had come to terms with his future now. One day he probably had to marry Rose, but until then he would keep his back straight and free of the pain of not knowing where he'd end up.   
  
*I'll take one day at a time and take the pleasures and griefs as they come, * Sam thought and lifted his head to feel the sun on his face. No one could take from him what he shared with Frodo, and that would be his strength. 


	4. Winter's Tale

Author: TickTack, alias Restina   
Title: A Winter's Tale   
Characters or Pairing: Sam Frodo Slash Implied   
Rating: PG   
Genre: Angst.   
Summary: As winter comes Sam suddenly gets very ill, and Frodo fears he may loose his one true love   
Disclaimer: Sam And Frodo are Tolkiens, not mine!   
  
  
  
A Winter's Tale  
  
Winter came with a sudden rush to the Shire the year Sam and Frodo found their love. With his cloak of ice, wind and snow the King of Winter led his troops to the Shire as quickly as a sudden sting to the neck. Suddenly the ground was all covered in white and the wind was howling and making it a dread to go outside. The inhabitants of Hobbiton went shivering about to their daily chores and Sam, of course, was one of them.   
  
He usually didn't mind the cold and the snow; he loved the smiles and the happiness this weird, and white stuff brought Hobbit-children. He often stopped on his way home from work to watch Hobbit-kids stumbling around in the snow, building snow-castles, having snowball-fights, and not seldom he joined them. But the last couple of weeks he'd been bothered with a cold that never seemed to let go. And now that Winter had come with all of his ice-cold servants, Sam's cough got worse.   
  
Now, Sam wasn't one to complain, so he lived his life as he always had. He worked for Mr. Frodo, desired him as secretly as a hobbit in love could, cared for his family and future fiance and played with Hobbit- children in the snow. It was when he dived into his old, creaking bed at night he allowed himself to feel just a little bit tired.   
  
But one day Sam felt worse when he opened his eyes early in the morning. His chest was aching, making it painful to breathe, and his cough sounded terrible. Marigold didn't like it at all.   
  
"You're staying home sick today, Sam Gamgee!" she said as Sam sat at the breakfast- table doing his best not to look too miserable.   
  
"I'm fine, really I am!" Sam coughed.   
  
"I'm fine!" Marigold repeated in a sarcastic tone, "Look at you, you're a wreck! There is no way you're walking through that door, Brother- if so I have to tie you down to the chair to prevent it!" She planted her hands solidly to her hips to look as intimidating as her sister Daisy used to when she was in a dangerous mood.   
  
"Well, then I suggest you do just that," Sam answered, "Because I'm going to work no matter how grumpy you'll get!" Marigold sighed. She knew she was talking to a wall. Therefore she turned to the other "wall" of the house, their father.   
  
"Come on, dad, reason with him! He won't die if he misses work ONE day!"   
  
The Gaffer took a close look at his son.   
  
"Now, son, how are you feeling today, lad?"   
  
"Honestly, I'm fine!" Sam said with a raspy voice that revealed the truth; "Marigold's warm milk with honey in it works wonders!" Sam slowly rose from his chair. "Besides, you never had a day off sick when you worked for Mr. Baggins and neither am I going to!"   
  
The Gaffer was quite proud of this fact and he smiled broadly when his son mentioned it. And he felt proud he had such a dutiful son.   
  
"If you're sure you're up to it son," the Gaffer said and continued slurping his porridge.   
  
Sam fetched his jacket and went for the door, while Marigold looked at him with concern in her eyes.   
  
"Promise me you'll take it easy, Sam," She handed him a knitted scarf; " And wear the scarf Rosie made for you to get well." Sam smiled as he received the scarf he'd gotten a week earlier.   
  
"Thanks Mari-dear! I'll take it easy today, I promise!"   
  
Sam was hoping he would feel better once he got out into the fresh air, but the cold made it even harder to breathe. The scarf around his neck, despite the love and care it was knitted with, weighed him down and he was breathing heavily, tramping up the hill.   
  
Frodo was still asleep when Sam entered his bedchamber, and Sam tiptoed across the floor to watch him in his sleep. He looked so peaceful and handsome in his sleep and Sam loved to see his master like this. He looked so happy. As Sam stood there by his master's bed a giant sneeze forced its way up his throat and exploded out of his nose.   
  
Frodo jerked out of his sleep as if a rocket just had gone off by his ear.   
  
"Sam?!!?" Frodo gasped in surprise. Then he calmed down and smiled.   
  
"You often come in here when I sleep, don't you?"   
  
Sam blushed. Not only had he waken his master up with his nasty cough, he'd been caught, red handed, spying on him.   
  
"I'm so sorry Mr. Frodo, I didn't mean to startle you! The sneeze just jumped right out of my nose! I tried to hold it back, sir, but it felt like my head was about to explode! And about the spying... I'm so sorry sir, but you look so beautiful in your sleep, I just couldn't help my self- I just can't help it. I feel like I can watch you without disturbing you then, if you follow me, sir? But I won't do it again if you don't like it!"   
  
"Not to worry, my dear Sam!" Frodo said and beckoned him to come closer; "I don't mind at all!"   
  
"Well, I better get to work then!" Sam said, sounding more or less voiceless, and hurried out of the room.   
  
Sam sighed and blew his nose on a hankie as he walked down the hall. He would like nothing more than to cuddle up in his love's warm embrace, but Sam was afraid he might pass his cold on to his master and that he would have nothing of! So Sam went outside to chop some wood for Mr. Frodo to have through the upcoming day and night.   
  
Frodo wondered why Sam had hurried out of his bedroom in such haste. He had never run off on him like that before.   
  
"Well," Frodo thought; "I've done it to him more than one time so I shouldn't act like a crabby old man." Still he felt a little disappointed as he climbed out of his bed and got dressed. He trudged in to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Sam had already prepared it and the table was filled with good, healthy Hobbit- food. But... Where was Sam? A Hobbit never turns down the offer of good, solid food and Sam had eaten breakfast both at home and in Bagend as long as Frodo could remember. The distant sound of an axe hitting wood told him where his servant was. Frodo found it very odd Sam had skipped his breakfast. He sat down with a confused look on his face. Was Sam avoiding him? And if so, why?   
  
He didn't eat much of his breakfast. The food tasted different without Sam at the table.   
  
Frodo found himself listening to the sound of Sam handling the axe outside instead of eating. Here and there long periods of silence followed, until the sound of wood cracking still appeared.   
  
Frodo sighed and rised from the chair, before he wandered out to the living- room where he slipped down in one of his arm- chairs.   
  
"I guess I'll have to wait until he's come back. No use in tramping out there and shaking it out of him," Frodo thought, as he opened a book he currently was reading. Still his thoughts kept wandering off , wondering why Sam was acting so strange.   
  
A few minutes later the sound of footsteps came from the entrance, and there Sam came with a pile of firewood in his arms so tall his face disappeared behind it. He was panting heavily, and it sounded like he had half a pint of fluid surkling in his chest. Frodo ran to help him with the big load.   
  
"Easy, Sam you sound like you're about to blow both your lungs!" Frodo said and took half the load off Sam's hands.   
  
"Sam!" he cried when his servant's face appeared. Sam's face was all white and covered in a cold sweat. His eyes were red and moist, he looked terrible. Frodo dropped the firewood down to the floor.   
  
"My dear! Why didn't you tell me you're sick, Sam! I would never let you work if I knew you were in this condition!" Frodo said as he urgently took the rest of the wood from Sam's arms.   
  
"But I'm not sick, really I'm not!" Sam coughed and dried the sweat of his forehead with the arm of his jacket; " I.. I just need to get my breath.. back." Frodo dragged him to a chair and sat him down.   
  
"You have a fever, Sam. And you're not looking good at all. I would call that being sick..." He looked straight into Sam's eyes.   
  
"I won't let you work as long as you are ill, it's not good for you! I'm gonna give you the rest of the day off. And if you feel better tomorrow, and I mean TRULY feel better, you can come to work, all right?" Sam looked like he'd just been fired.   
  
"But Mr. Frod..." Sam began coughing violently and Frodo felt ashamed he hadn't noticed that Sam's cold had gotten much worse earlier that morning.   
  
"Dear Sam. I want you to get well soon, and the only way for you to get well soon is if you lie down and take the load of your feet for a couple off days.   
  
I'll follow you home as soon as you feel you're able to walk." Frodo stroked a gentle hand over Sam's chin. "You know I preferably would have you here in one of the guest-beds until you're well, but after that close encounter with the Gaffer we had in the summer I don't think that would be wise." Sam nodded his head slowly as if he had accepted defeat.   
  
"We'll better get on our way then," he said and rubbed his chest; "But you don't have to follow me if you don't want to... I'll manage."   
  
"I'm going to follow you home no matter what you say, Sam Gamgee!" Frodo said and kissed his lovers hand.   
  
Nightfall came quickly that night. Frodo sat in front of the fireplace with his favorite pipe in his hand, thinking about Sam. Dear, sweet Sam who didn't know when to throw in the towel. He expected him to be sick for at least a week. Probably longer if Marigold managed to keep him in his bed. He couldn't help but worry, though-- but then Sam always had been fit as a fiddle. Frodo couldn't remember him being sick at all except for the occasional autumn cold every couple of years.   
  
Later that same night Frodo was waken by frantic knocking at the door. He yawned and discovered he'd fallen asleep with a book on his lap in the living- room. The knocking continued and now a voice close to hysteria started shouting.   
  
"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo, please! You must open! It's urgent, please!!!!" Frodo got to his feet in a hurry.   
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he shouted as he ran for the door, heart thundering in his chest. What ever it was it had to be serious in this late hour. He was filled with dread when he opened the door and realized it was Hamfast Gamgee standing there howling. The old Hobbit looked worn, his eyes were tearstung.   
  
"I'm so sorry to bother you at this late hour, Sir, but it's Sam. He..." The world started spinning. Frodo's face went white.   
  
"What about him Mr. Gamgee?" he said urgently and looked sharply at the old Hobbit whose lower lip had begun to shake.   
  
"He's worse, much worse. He can hardly catch his breath, the lad, and he keeps calling your name, Mr. Frodo. I'm so afraid, me and Marigold don't get any contact with him, and it's like he's in a world of his own. Come with me, please! Maybe you'll be able to shake him out of it."   
  
Frodo felt a cold chill run down his spine as he entered Sam's humble house where he lived together with his father and sister. He could hear the sound of sobbing from Sam's bedroom. Marigold was sitting by the side of her brother's bed, her face dissolved in tears.   
  
In the bed lay Sam, shivering and panting, chest shaking. His face was pale as a corpse and he was mumbling words Frodo couldn't understand.   
  
"He's been like that since you left, dad," she said and rose from the bed, drying her tears. "Please, Mr. Frodo see if you can bring him back, he's been calling your name for the last hour or so."   
  
Frodo went to the bed, trembling all over as he sat down beside the shaking Hobbit in the bed. Sam. His dearest, dearest Sam. It pained him to see his lover in this state, it cut- like a knife in his heart and all he wanted to do was to take Sam into his arms and cradle him, make it all go away.   
  
"He needs a doctor. He's burning up with fever," he said as he held his hand over Sam's forehead.   
  
"I sent one of the neighbors, Lefty Gimblewood, for the doctor half an hour ago," Marigold answered; "They should be here any minute." Then she started sobbing again.   
  
"I knew I shouldn't have let him go to work today! That awful cough and the wheezing from his chest, how could I let him go??!" The Gaffer embraced his daughter and calmed her down.   
  
"Don't blame your self Mari- dear! You know Sam. If he's hurting he pretends he's just fine, even if he's not. He looked sick this morning, yes- but he said he could handle it. And we believed him, because he believed it himself."   
  
Frodo held Sam's slack hand, calling his name over and over again.   
  
"Sam. Wake up, Sam! It's Frodo, we're worried for you!" Suddenly Sam opened his eyes and looked straight at him "Mr. Frodo!" he gasped and struggled to gain his breath. He had a desperate look on his face and he tried to lift his head from the pillow. Frodo held his hand and tenderly touched Sam's cheek with the other.   
  
"Shhh, Sam. Try to save your strength." A single tear ran down Sam's cheek.   
  
"Frodo, my love, ...my dear..." His head fell back on the pillow and he closed his eyes. He was unconscious again. Frodo felt his stomach sink down to his ankles. Sam had called him "his love" right in front of his sister and father!! Frodo swallowed and turned around to face them, dreading the look in their eyes, but they had more of a panicky look on their faces.   
  
"Rosie! He asked for Rosie!" Marigold cried and held her hands to her face, apparently not knowing what to do.   
  
"I'll go get her!" The Gaffer shouted and immediately ran to the door; "I'll see if I can borrow one of Lettyman's ponies, I'll be back as soon as I can!" The door slammed behind him. Frodo dared to breathe again.   
  
Just as Frodo thought there were no more surprises, two young hobbits from Buckland appeared in the door for no apparent reason.   
  
They had lurked their way to Hobbiton in the night with a silly idea of giving their cousin Frodo a really good scare. But their plan failed as they couldn't find him at Bag End. So Merry and Pippin went to the next obvious place they would find their cousin, Sam's house.   
  
"Merry... Pippin! What are YOU doing here??" Frodo looked like he was about to fall down to the floor.   
  
"So this is were you spend your nights now," Merry grinned, but he immediately piped down when he noticed Sam. "He looks really sick, Frodo, what's the matter with him?"   
  
Frodo hushed them out in to the small kitchen and asked Marigold to take care of them. He had no time for them now, Sam needed him. And it would be good for Marigold to have those to clowns to keep her spirit up. Amongst all hobbits he knew, nobody were more light-hearted than his dear cousins.   
  
Doctor Aribarr Mitten arrived just minutes after the arrival of Merry and Pippin. Frodo moved so that Mr. Mitten could examine Sam, and joined the others in the kitchen by the doc's orders. Marigold sat on a chair in the kitchen, still crying her eyes out; Merry and Pippin looked like they didn't know what to do; and Frodo paced back and forth on the floor, clenching his teeth not to cry out loud. His love lay sick in his bed in a drafty and moist room, how could he possibly have sent him back that morning- he should have let him stay until he was well. The Gaffer would've understood that, it would be for the welfare of his son! Frodo exhaled and tried to calm down.   
  
*The doctor's with him now, he'll find out what's wrong and make it go away!* Frodo looked around in the small cottage and suddenly he felt stunned given the fact that there once lived a family of eight in this small house. Now only three of them still was living here, two of Sam's sisters and both of his brothers had moved out, getting married or leaving to get work somewhere else in the Shire. Sam's mother, Bell, died of an illness when Sam was ten; and the Gaffer had singlehandedly taken care of his children ever since. These walls contained all the love and feeling of safety and family Frodo lost the day his parents died when he was twelve. And it made him miss Bilbo dreadfully. Oh, how he wished he was here right now! Frodo longed for a comforting embrace and a lap to crawl up on to feel safe.   
  
A creak in the door to Sam's bedroom made them all turn around. Mr. Mitten came out, closing the door behind him. His face looked grave.   
  
"How is he Mr. Mitten?" The words were no more than a whisper from Frodo's throat. He'd already seen in the doctor's face that Sam was very, very ill. Aribarr looked down on his hands before he answered.   
  
"I'm afraid it don't look good." Frodo felt he had to sit down as his world crumbled into small pieces and vanished.   
  
"What... what's wrong with him?" he stuttered.   
  
"Pneumonia. Both of his lungs are heavily infected. I don't understand how the lad had the strength to get out of the bed today at all with all that fluid in his chest."   
  
"What are... his chances?" Frodo forced the words out of his mouth. Aribarr sighed. "In his condition and given the environment surrounding his sickbed... fifteen percent." In the background Marigold began to whimper.   
  
"What do you mean, 'given the environment surrounding his sickbed'"? Frodo exhaled, as the fact that he very well might loose the one love of his life dawned to him.   
  
"Hobbit- houses like this are very drafty and cold during the winter. That could make his lungs collapse entirely I'm afraid. The best for him would be a warm and dry room, without any form of draft. I'm afraid none of the rooms of this house is in that condition," Aribarr said with a sad look on his face.   
  
"Can he be moved?!" Frodo almost shouted the words out as he got an idea.   
  
"I'm afraid not." Aribarr answered. "He's too weak. A trip in a wagon might very well kill him."   
  
"Then I'll carry him!" Frodo said determined; "If he's warm and I don't bump around with him he wouldn't notice it at all except the air he's breathing. Bag End is the warmest and driest Hobbit- hole in the Shire, it should be the best place for him to fight off this... lungthing !" Mr. Mitten thought about it for a moment, then he said;   
  
"I think that would be his best chance, Mr. Frodo. But be aware he still has a long way to go and he will be needing endless care all day and night long. All I can provide is a medicine that will help him with the fluid in his lungs. The rest will be entirely up to him and his will to live."   
  
Frodo nodded eagerly: "What are his chances if... if we do this?" The answer felt like a needle in his brain:   
  
"Twenty- thirty percent." From the bedroom the sound of a dreadful cough followed by a gasp for air made Frodo leave all his worries deep down in his heart and he found his calm as he quickly instructed the others what to do.   
  
"Merry, Pippin- you go ahead and fire up both fireplaces, the one in the living-room and the one in my bedroom. Make sure there's no draft from the windows, and heat some water!"   
  
"OK Frodo, consider it done!" Pippin said and he and Merry both ran out the door. Frodo turned to Marigold whose eyes were big and puffy:   
  
"Marigold, you write a note to your father so he knows where we are taking Sam, while I get Sam ready to go. Then you'll carry the things we'll need, like Sam's medicine and things he loves and cares about." Marigold nodded and went to work. Frodo hurried into Sam's room to wrap him in warm blankets. He opened his eyes again when Frodo came to the bed, but he didn't attempt to speak.   
  
"Rest now, my Sam," Frodo said; "I'm taking you home." Sam closed his eyes again and fell asleep.   
  
Mr. Mitten entered the room just as Frodo wrapped Sam in a last blanket. He looked like a gigantic, sleeping baby and under other circumstances he would have been a pretty funny sight.   
  
"Remember to keep him warm at all times, Mr. Frodo, even if he complains of being hot. It'll help him fight the disease." Frodo nodded as he carefully lifted his Sam from the bed and into his arms. Sam was a sturdy hobbit and a heavy load for a rich hobbit like Frodo who wasn't used with caring much more than a book out to his garden and back.   
  
"Anything more?" he puffed as he carried Sam out the door.   
  
"Give him lots of fluids, make sure he's not bathing in sweat- that means clean him when necessary... and pray it's not contagious," Aribarr answered. Frodo turned around in a haze:   
  
"Contagious?!! Do you mean it can be contagious?!?!"   
  
"Usually it's not, but we never know for sure. We had an outbreak of a more gentle version of lung-disease some years ago up in Tuckborough, a whole family got it. Therefore I hope you keep your visitors to a minimum the following days."   
  
Although Bag End was not far away from Sam's neighborhood Bagshot Row, Frodo felt he had walked for hours when he finally reached the doorstep of his home. Marigold opened the door for him and Frodo just barely got through the doorway."   
  
"Now, you send Merry and Pippin home. They haven't been in contact with Sam and if this thing's contagious they'll probably not catch it as long as they leave now," Frodo panted as he carried Sam down the hall. "And make them alert the rest of your family so that they keep away the following days, all right?"   
  
Frodo lay Sam down in his own bedroom. He could hear Merry and Pippin protest loudly as Marigold escorted them out the door. They didn't want to leave at all, what if Sam didn't make it? Couldn't they at least stay out in the living room? But Marigold wisely ignored their prayers. As Frodo unwrapped Sam of the layers of blankets he coughed and stirred. A soft moan came out of his throat and he opened his eyes. He saw right past Frodo like he was staring at someone standing behind him. Then he smiled, a tired but happy smile and lifted his left hand.   
  
"You look beautiful today, my dear," he coughed and stroke an imaginary chin;   
  
"I feel so happy, at least we're together my love, together and we don't feel ashamed. Who would believe my Gaffer would approve of something like.." His eyes went blank and unfocused.   
  
"Frodo? Where are you? Frodo, my love!" The dry sound of crying went through Frodo's bones and he gripped Sam's hand and held it tight.   
  
"I'm here Sam, I'm right here beside you!" His heart trembled as he saw the pain on Sam's face; "Please, Sam! Don't you see me?" But Sam had already closed his eyes again and new pearls of sweat were appearing on his forehead. In the same time Marigold came in with a mug of water and a glass. She saw a worried and scared hobbit and realized she wasn't alone feeling like that.   
  
"He'll make it through, Mr. Frodo, I just know he will!" Frodo looked upon her, the tired look on his face made him look much older, but at the same time young and frightened. "I hope he will, Marigold, but now we can't do much more than to wait and hope."   
  
Frodo had no idea of how many hours had passed when he heard the sound someone coming through the entry-door. The loud voice of Hamfast Gamgee didn't leave much doubt of who it was, though.   
  
Marigold was the Gaffer's youngest and probably the wisest in the knowledge of how to calm the old hobbit down when he was in a quicktempered mood. And on the looks of him Marigold had an armful of trouble ahead of her. He didn't look happy at all, the old one. With him he had brought Rosie and her oldest brother, Tolman.   
  
"I come to my own home after hobbling several miles on an old, grumpy pony only to find that my boy has vanished from his own bed! What's wrong with that bed if I may ask?! He's slept in it all of his life and never complaint before. Now, just who decided that bed wasn't fancy enough for my own flesh and blood?!?!?"   
  
Marigold tried her best to calm him down: "The doctor, dad. Sam's room was too cold and drafty. He needed somewhere warm and dry, and kind Mr. Frodo offered his own room."   
  
"Oh." The Gaffer piped down with a grunt and helped Rosie off with her coat. She looked worried and scared, her hands were trembling.   
  
"Marigold, where is he?" Rosie's voice was no more than the squeak of a mouse, and she couldn't stand still. Marigold looked at the young hobbit-girl standing in front of her with tears in her eyes, knowing there was nothing she could say that would soothe the anxiety of Sam's future bride.   
  
"Please, Rosie- there's some things I need to tell you before I take you to him," she said and laid a hand on her shoulder.   
  
"What do you mean?" Rosie got an uncertain look on her face. Marigold took a deep breath before she continued. The Gaffer also tuned in his good ear.   
  
"Sam is very ill, Rosie. Very ill indeed. But that's not all I'm afraid..." Rosie looked like she was going to faint and the Gaffer and Tolman suddenly got very interested in the carpet on the floor.   
  
"Mr. Mitten, the doctor, was afraid what Sam has can be contagious. If you go near him you may be infected, Rosie; therefore I advise you to head home, now, or else you may get it too!" Rosie's eyes welled up with tears and she looked at Marigold with a hurt look on her face.   
  
"Leave my Sam when he needs me the most?! Just turn around here, on the threshold, to save my own skin??! Marigold Gamgee, of all hobbits! I thought you knew me better than that! How could I do that to my love?? I'm staying right here where I belong, and no one's gonna stop me!" With these words she stamped down the hall with red glowing cheeks heading for Frodo's bedroom as if she instinctively knew where to find Sam.   
  
Frodo couldn't help but look surprised when Rosie steamed in to the room. He knew her arrival was inevitable, but now that she first was here it all seemed so... strange?   
  
And as she more or less threw him off the chair he was sitting on to get close to Sam, Frodo felt an anger emerge from the darkness of his heart, the anger of jealousy. Wisely he chose to leave the room for the time being. He didn't have the energy to handle the Rosie- business in all this.   
  
*Let her sob and cry for a little while until she is satisfied and I can take care of him again.*   
  
Frodo dragged him self out to the kitchen where the Gaffer was sitting by the table sipping a cup of tea. He heard Marigold's voice somewhere nearby, talking to Tolman who'd also decided to stay, despite the warnings he was given. Frodo started pacing back and forth on the floor, not knowing what to do with himself. His eyes continually sought beyond the kitchen walls and into the bedroom, heart trembling at every cough and moan therefrom.   
  
"Sit down, lad, you make my head spin with all that trampling of yours!" The Gaffer looked as nervous as he did. He never would have used the word "lad" when talking to his former boss unless there was something going on. And something definitely was..   
  
"I'm sorry," Frodo said and stopped for about two seconds; "I can't help it." He started pacing again.   
  
He was about to go mad. The whole night had passed, so had the next day and afternoon, and still Rosie sat by Sam's side, unmovable. She had cleaned him, given him water and medicine. She was even singing him soft lullabies, centuries old, to calm him down when he was acting restless. It was a true pain.   
  
Frodo couldn't sit still no matter how hard he tried. He could hear Sam calling for his "love" loud and sore while gasping for air, and Frodo was absolutely convinced he would go insane any second.   
  
Mr. Mitten paid them a visit in about suppertime and his news was not good. Sam wasn't getting any better by the looks of it; they should be lucky if he survived the night. They all started crying, hearing this, all except Frodo. He felt cold as ice and had an urge to run away from it all. To just lie down in the snow somewhere and die felt almost too appealing to him. Once more he missed Bilbo and his safe, warm embrace, and he felt so lonely that he feared his heart should break.   
  
Merry and Pippin came by to hear how Sam was doing and to pass the news to the rest of Sam's relatives.   
  
In his despair Frodo wrote a letter for Gandalf to come immediately if there was anything he could do to save Sam. He instructed Merry and Pippin to take it to an old Hobbit near the forest, Littelbo Withersheet. He was the closest you could get to a messenger to the outside of Hobbiton.   
  
He knew Hobbits who knew other Hobbits who knew a Hobbit who knew an elf. And this elf knew other elves and so forth.. Maybe, if Frodo got lucky, the letter would reach Gandalf in time. But Gandalf was a busy wizard who traveled all over the land, and Frodo hadn't heard from him in years...   
  
The night came and Sam still was out of Frodo's reach. Frodo had made a decision. He couldn't pretend any more, he would truly die if he stayed out here another minute! He took a deep breath and walked down the hall on trembling feet after making sure he wasn't going to be seen by Marigold or the others. This was a matter between Rosie and him and he intended to keep it that way. He hesitated for a moment in front of the door. Had he lost his wits entirely?? A terrible gasp from behind the door made his mind up. However how insane this would be, he had to do it!   
  
He knocked softly on the door, hating himself for his weakness and the pain he was about to inflict Rosie. There was no doubt in his mind that she loved Sam as much as he did.   
  
"Come in." A tired voice answered from the bedroom and Frodo entered the room on traitorous legs. There he found Rosie kneeling by the side of the bed where Sam lay.   
  
Frodo almost cried out loud when he saw him. His dearest Sam! All covered in sweat, pale and apparently lifeless. Rosie turned her head towards Frodo. Her eyes were red after hours of crying and she didn't look much better than Sam.   
  
"Mr. Frodo," Her eyes lit up for a moment and she got to her feet, slow like an old woman. She embraced him and started crying all over again.   
  
"I'm so scared!" she sobbed; "How could I live if Sam was taken away from me? I'm losing him, Mr. Frodo and there's nothing I can do with it but sit here and stare while his life slips away by the minute." Frodo closed his eyes as he answered, he was shivering all over as he held Rosie close.   
  
"Thank you Mr. Frodo." She turned and had a look at Sam again. "He's everything to me, " she said and a true smile came to her face.   
  
"I know Rosie," Frodo said with tears in his eyes; "I know..."   
  
Suddenly Sam started to writhe while coughing violently. His face went red with pain and fright as he battled to force air down into his lungs, his hands were clasping after an invisible hand. Frodo took a leap forward to hold him down before he fell out of the bed.   
  
"Rosie, grab his feet!" he yelled as he opened the top buttons on Sam's nightshirt to help him breath. A deep rattle went through Sam's chest as some kind of cramp made his body convulse.   
  
"Sam!" Rosie cried and started sobbing with renewed power. Sam lifted his head from the pillow with a horrifying grimace on his face, his chest looking like it was going to explode. He opened his eyes and there was true surprise in his face when he recognized his master.   
  
"F-f-froo...," he began, but was cut off by his own lungs. "C-c-an-nt bre-e-a..."   
  
"Hush, Sam, don't try to talk. I'm here for you, and so is Rosie." Sam grabbed a hold of Frodo's hand and held it tight.   
  
"D-dont... leav... m..." Sam closed his eyes as he lost control over his body again. A loud moan came from his throat and his body trembled and shook, tearing itself apart. Rosie was crying loudly, scared out of her mind by the sight of her love fighting for his life right in front of her. In the door Marigold came running but stopped with a gasp when she saw Sam.   
  
"Marigold, take Rosie with you to the living-room!" Frodo yelled as he did his best to keep Sam from hurting himself. Both Rosie and Marigold were standing there, too panicked to move.   
  
"NOW!!!!" Frodo screamed; "There's nothing you can do for him now, this he has to fight this off himself. I'll call if I need any help!" Marigold and Rosie went out the door, hand in hand crying silently. It looked dark, it definitely did.   
  
Sam fought the whole night through, gasping, coughing, trembling and convulsing with a high fever burning in his veins. Sometimes he was present, sometimes he was not. Sometimes he cried like a baby for the pain in his chest, and sometimes he just screamed until he had no breath left and he had to gasp for air until his whole body arched. And Frodo sat by his side, refusing to allow Sam to let go, soothing his pain by his mere presence.   
  
By the morning Frodo was dead tired. All he wanted was to lie down beside Sam and cry. But he had to be strong, help Sam through the attacks by being calm and comforting. If he showed Sam his fears, it was over. Sam would lose his faith. But his fake calmness drained him of all the strength he had within, until Frodo sat there weakened and could hold back his tears no more. The first morning-light peered through the circle-shaped window and captured the silhouette of the hobbit as he sat there by the side of his lover's bed, crying silent tears over his one true love. Sam had been silent for a long time now, only the rattle in his chest proved he was still alive. Frodo feared he was near the end.   
  
"Sam, love," he sobbed; "don't leave me, you hear? I can't live without you, come back!" Frodo fell to his knees, squeezing Sam's hand. No answer came from the bed. Frodo lifted his head from the bedside and looked at Sam. He looked peaceful. Except for the wheezing in his lungs it looked like he was asleep. Maybe taking a nap in the sun.   
  
Sam was in a far away place where no one could reach him. He had found peace now, after days and hours of struggling to break free and run away. It felt nice here, he had to admit to that, but still it wasn't home. And how could he spend eternity without Frodo or all the others he loved and cared about? Sometimes he could still hear them calling for him, and the sorrow in their voices made him gasp for one last breath of air, made him try to break the chains holding him down even if he knew it was hopeless. But in time he realized this was a fight he couldn't win. He'd given up hope now and he assumed the doors would close behind him any second.   
  
*So this is how it all will end then,* Sam thought as his soul prepared for the last journey.   
  
*I'll have to leave them all without the chance to say goodbye, just fade away like a shadow in the nightfall.* Never more would he feel the touch of his love's warm embrace, never more would he feel the joy of running around in a field of daisies, just being happy he existed. How he would miss it all in this silent place, would he ever get the chance to get a last glimpse of his family, friends, Rosie... and Frodo? Frodo, his dearest Frodo. His soulmate. How could he ever go on without him? It was all quiet around him. Sam knew he had to let go.   
  
"Sam!" A voice, from where Sam couldn't determine cut through the silence. It was the voice of an old man and it was clear and came from nearby. Probably he had come to help Sam take the last step into the new world.   
  
"Sam!" the voice repeated, closer now. Sam got to his feet, surprised he could stand up, and walk even.   
  
"I'm here," he answered; "step forward so that I can see you." Around him all was nothing in a white mist. No sun, no sky, trees, ground or anything. Just white, and weirdly enough, comfortable. To Sam's surprise the old man who stepped out from nothing was a man he had known and respected as long as he could remember.   
  
"Gandalf!" Sam gasped and the joy of seeing a familiar face in these unaccustomed surroundings made him laugh. "What are YOU doing here?? Are you the keeper of this place?" Gandalf smiled and shook his head.   
  
"No, Samwise, I have nothing to do with this place. I shouldn't even be here. It's against the laws you see." Sam got a confused look on his face.   
  
"What do you mean, Mr. Gandalf? Why shouldn't you be here, and what laws are you talking about?" Gandalf lay a hand on Sam's shoulder.   
  
"You're in the place mortals go before their souls leave their earthly bodies, my young hobbit. This is where they spend their last hours before they are strong enough to take the journey to the new world. The laws I was talking about were the agent laws of the immortals. No immortal should enter the temporary world to try to alter the future of a mortal." Sam looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. This was too much information in one time.   
  
"I don't understand," he said. "Am I dead?" Gandalf made a gesture with his right arm and smiled once more.   
  
"No, Sam, you're not. But you are about to die, and that's why I'm here. You see, I got a letter from a certain worried hobbit a day ago. This letter has been brought to me in such a rush and with such pace I know you are loved by far more than your family and friends. And this certain hobbit I'm talking about, although he doesn't know it yet, has a great task awaiting him in the future. And so have you Sam. And if your story ends here I fear it all will be lost. You need each other, you and him. You shouldn't have ended up in this place at all, or at least not for a long time yet, young lad. Therefore I've got permission to help you find your way back home, Sam. I've watched you fight for it while I worked for your ticket back home, so I know I've done the right thing." Sam fell on his bum. So overwhelmed by it all he couldn't manage to stand up.   
  
"So I'm about to die.. but you are here to make me not, and I have something I have to do in the future??" Sam exhaled the words as Gandalf patiently helped him back on his feet.   
  
"The other Hobbit, it's Mr. Frodo isn't it?"   
  
Gandalf nodded, "That's right, Sam, but we don't have much time. I'll have to send you back now, before it's to late. You won't remember any of our little talk when you wake up though, the laws of the immortals forbid it." And with a new gesture with his right arm Gandalf made a door appear from the nothingness, the well-known green door of Bag End.   
  
Sam laughed in joy. "That sure is a nifty trick Mr. Gandalf!" He looked at the door and felt more homesick than ever, but before opened it he had one last question.   
  
"Will there be elves, on that great task you're talking about Mr. Gandalf?" he asked and turned around. But the old wizard had disappeared, there was nothing left of him except from a little grey spot where he last stood.   
  
*Well then, Sam Gamgee, you better head home then. Won't you have a great story to tell the others!* With this in his thoughts Sam smiled, quite pleased as he opened the door and stepped through. He was going back.   
  
"I love you, Sam Gamgee," Frodo whispered and kissed Sam on the cheek. "If there's no other way- I'll have to let you go, but not like this, Sam; not like this!" His face dissolved as he lost the rest of his self-control. Sam couldn't die! How could he live without him? He would rather see Sam marry Rosie than to lose him like this.   
  
He buried his face in Sam's bed-sheets as the daylight slowly found its way across the room and to the bed, covering it with a thin beam of light that made it shine. And in this precise moment the miracle appeared. The miracle Frodo had begged for the whole night through, the miracle no one really believed could happen.   
  
"Mr. Frodo... why are you crying, sir?" The voice was rusty and didn't have much resemblance with the original sound of it, but to Frodo's ears it sounded like music. He lifted his head and looked straight into two brown, clear eyes with a dash of confusion over them.   
  
"What's wrong, Mr. Frodo?" Sam coughed. To Frodo's big joy it was nothing like the coughing he had heard throughout the night.   
  
"Sam!" Frodo almost cried as he got to his feet. "You look marvelous! And here I was sobbing away like a child because I thought you were going to die on me!" He kissed Sam's forehead and grinned like an idiot. What happened the few minutes Frodo gave up hope? Probably he would never know. But now Sam had returned somehow, and he looked like the beginning of a spring. Frodo felt joy from his toes and all the way up to his curly head. His Sam had come back to him!   
  
"I love you, Sam," Frodo's eyes glowed with love as he bent down and kissed Sam once more, this time on the lips. "I thought I'd lost you, I was sure I never could feel joy again. And just to prove me wrong you opened your eyes and spoke, you... you.. Ah, who cares as long as I can see life in your big brown eyes again!" Frodo laughed and touched Sam's nose with a tender fingertip.   
  
Sam still looked confused. He didn't know what was going on at all. The last he remembered was diving into his own bed, feeling sick as a dog. Now he found himself in Frodo's bed, still not feeling like jumping out of the bed and dancing, but still he felt better. And what was all this nonsense about dying? Frodo looked like he'd seen a miracle appear before his very eyes with that grinning of his. He remembered dreaming, though. Something about Gandalf...? But before Sam could ask what was going on the door flew up and in came faces that all were dear to him.   
  
"Sam!" Rosie and Marigold screamed, one louder than the other. Behind them the Gaffer and Tolman came strolling in with big cheerful smiles on their faces, Tolman was even chewing on a piece of pie.   
  
"That's my lad!" the Gaffer said and had a pleased look on his face. "I knew you would pull through!" The puffy, red eyes proved different, though, but nobody cared about that in such a joyous moment.   
  
Tolman had a good look at his good friend and laughed, "I thought you was a goner for sure, my friend! I'm glad you proved me wrong!" Sam almost felt embarrassed there he lay in his master's bed.   
  
"A goner, aye?!" he snorted and gave his childhood friend a strict look that showed nothing but friendship. Marigold gave her brother a long and intense hug, and cried his nightshirt wet with tears of joy at the same time.   
  
"Never do something like that again, you hear, Sam-dear!?! The next time you get as much as the sniffles I'm locking you up in your room!" She gave him a last hug and moved so that Rosie could step forward. Frodo felt nothing but pain when he saw the look in her face. The love shining in her features made her eyes glow and she looked as beautiful as any elven-maiden. Frodo knew neither he or Sam had the cruelness needed to break Rosies heart. She deserved better than that. They sneaking behind her back was bad enough, but to tell her... Frodo sighed and left the room, to let Rosie have Sam for her self. If one could call it that given the fact that she had him "alone" with her brother, future father-in-law and sister-in-law...   
  
Frodo came no longer then to the hall when he heard knocking from the door. Outside Merry and Pippin were standing, both looking grave, as they both suspected the news they would hear was a burial-date.   
  
"How... is he, Frodo? You look tired," Merry said with concern in his eyes. Frodo looked at them and smiled.   
  
"He's going to be all right, boys- he's just..." Frodo's legs collapsed beneath him, to exhausted to carry the Hobbit any more. Frodo had used the last of his reserves. Merry just managed to get a hold of him before he crashed down to the floor.   
  
"Whoa there, cousin! I think you need a rest!" He helped him gain his balance, but didn't let go.   
  
"Let me help you, Frodo. You've had a rough night." Frodo let him help, to tired to even protest. Sam would survive, and with that thought in his mind Frodo leaned against Merry's helping arm.   
  
Frodo slept through the whole day and far into the evening. His slumber was so heavy, Marigold started to worry if he had gotten the illness to. But he had no fever, no cough or shakes- he just slept.   
  
"I don't understand what's the matter with him!" she said to Rosie as she helped her make Sam more comfortable by fluffing his pillow.   
  
"He's not sick, is he??" Sam's eyes got big and scared, and if it hadn't been for Rosie's strong arms he'd been halfway to the door already.   
  
"No, Sam- I don't think he's sick. At least I'm sure he don't have what you have, brother-dear," Marigold said and made sure her brother didn't escape from the bed. Sam sighed as he saw he was outnumbered. He should be with Frodo, not be lying here and get dolled with and being fed soup with a spoon. Rosie had been quiet during Sam and Marigold's discussion.   
  
"I think he will be all right," she said quietly. "He just needs some rest. He hasn't slept for two nights and he was the one that stayed with Sam when it looked the darkest. Any of us would have been dead tired after such a night, I know I would be." She looked at Sam with a loving smile in her face. "He's a good friend and Master, Sam." Sam nodded with a little sadness in his heart.   
  
"Yes he is," he said and took her hand carefully in his. *And he's so much more than you'll ever know,* he added in his mind.   
  
Frodo awoke to a darkened room, only lightened by the small flame of an old oil lamp. He felt rested and relaxed, with a singing joy in his mind. Sam, he had to go see him! But before Frodo even reached to sit up, a soft voice from the darkness called his name.   
  
"Frodo, Sir. Are you awake?" And into the dim light leaned a Hobbit as dear to him as the air he breathed. He was covered in a blanket and only his face and some of his left hand was showing. No wonder Frodo hadn't noticed him in the darkness.   
  
"Sam! What are you doing up?? You should be in bed!" Frodo whispered and sat up.   
  
"Not to worry, Mr. Frodo. I snook out when everybody had gone to bed. Marigold almost had to drag Rosie out the door, she wouldn't leave me," Sam whispered back and smiled.   
  
"I don't blame her," Frodo answered. He sounded both sad and in love at the same time.   
  
"But you shouldn't ramble about like that just after recovering after something like this. You should be in your bed!" Frodo sounded like the Gaffer early in the morning, before breakfast.   
  
Sam smiled and rose from his chair.   
  
"Is that an invite, Mr. Frodo?" he whispered and came to the bed with a smiling face. "Don't worry, not for long," he laughed silently when he saw the well-known panic in his master's eyes.   
  
"I only ask for a couple of minutes, just enough to feel your heartbeat against mine. I don't remember much from the past days, but I do remember you being there for me no matter the cost." He curled up against Frodo's body and kissed him gently as he looked him into the eye.   
  
"I thought I would lose you, Sam," Frodo said and stroked his lover's hair with a tender hand.   
  
"I love you," Sam whispered and his eyes welled up with tears; "How could I leave you like that, without even saying goodbye?"   
  
"You didn't," Frodo said and smiled; "And you won't, or at least not like that."   
  
"What do you mean?" Sam looked confused.   
  
"One day you will have to leave me, Sam- for Rosie's sake. We both know we don't have the heart to hurt her."   
  
Sam sighed. He knew. But he didn't want to think about that now.   
  
"Please, let's not take the sorrows and the griefs before we need to. Let us enjoy this moment in each other's arms and don't care about anything other than us," Sam said and underlined it with a soft kiss.   
  
"I love you, Sam." Frodo smiled and pulled him closer, tightened the embrace and wished they could stay like this forever. They only had a few minutes, Sam was right- they had to make them count. 


End file.
